


Don't Tap the Glass

by CommanderBunnBunn



Series: Whumptober 2020 [2]
Category: MacGyver (TV 2016)
Genre: Captivity, Gen, Whump, Whumptober 2020, spy siblings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-02
Updated: 2020-10-02
Packaged: 2021-03-07 19:01:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,608
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26772598
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CommanderBunnBunn/pseuds/CommanderBunnBunn
Summary: Whumptober Day 2 - In The Hands of the Enemy - Pick Who Dies.This is Part 1. Part 2 is tomorrow for Whumptober day 3
Relationships: Jack Dalton & Riley Davis & Angus MacGyver
Series: Whumptober 2020 [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1950382
Comments: 15
Kudos: 29





	Don't Tap the Glass

**Author's Note:**

  * For [panchostokes (badwolfrun)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/badwolfrun/gifts).



“Oh, dear Angus, you know I’d never let anyone touch a hair on your pretty little head.” Murdoc pauses and ruffles Mac’s hair. “I’m saving that for me. But I do love to see you suffer.” 

Mac’s tied to a chair, the drugs have somewhat worn off, but he doesn’t have the strength to fight the ropes tethering his ankles to the legs of the chair or the handcuffs, one set on each wrist, attached to the back of the aluminum chair. The cuffs were as tight as they could go and far enough apart from each other that he can’t put his hands together to attempt any type of escape...yet. 

“But we’re just getting started. Follow me.” Murdoc commands cheerily with a wave of his hand.

He stops with feigned realization, “Oh silly me,” he giggles, “you can’t.” Murdoc comes behind the chair and tips it backward at an angle, instantly making Mac’s already sluggish mind spin. 

The screech of the chair’s two back legs scraping across the concrete floor has Mac grabbing for his ears to get away from the noise, but they’re stuck near his hips. His hips! Naturally he reaches for his pocket for his knife to pick the handcuff lock with the toothpick. He’s defeated when he notices that not only has he been stripped of his knife, he’s not wearing his own clothes. He looks down at his lap, noticing the matching blue pants and shirt. Murdoc’s dressed him in scrubs. The feeling of nausea overwhelms him, unsure if it’s from the drugs or the fact that Murdoc had him drugged and without his clothes on. 

Mac is dragged through a doorway into a room even darker than the poorly lit room they'd just left. Murdoc lets the chair right itself with a harsh thud that pinches a piece of skin on Mac's bare foot and snaps hischin to his chest. He groggily tries to shake the cobwebs from his mind when Murdoc pulls a rope chain dangling from above to turn on a lone incandescent bulb. Mac blinks against the painful change in light.

The room is not large, about the size of a garage, but cut in half longways. In front of him is a large heavy curtain. Mac wants to bluff so his enemy thinks he’s firing on all cylinders, so he cracks a joke, “your newest torture is forcing me to watch a burlesque show?” Unfortunately, it comes out a little slurred and lacking the confidence he was trying to convey.

“Oh no, dear Angus, it’s even better than that.” Murdoc is way too excited. He grabs the far end of the curtain and pulls it all the way open. Behind the curtain sits two plexiglass cubicles that resemble empty commercial aquariums. The light in the room isn’t bright enough to see exactly what’s in the cubicles, only shadows, Mac squints to see.

Murdoc flicks a switch as he walks out of the room and Mac can’t help but turn his head away from the blinding LEDs that light up above the cubicles. In the left cubicle, Riley runs from the back corner when she sees Mac. She bangs her fists on the plexiglass and yells for him. 

Mac’s heart sinks when he sees her, Riley’s in trouble, and he’s mostly incapacitated and unable to help. Hopefully Jack’s on his way with a TAC team already. She’s also wearing scrubs, like Mac’s, and he shudders to think about what’s already happened to her. 

He averts his eyes to avoid the despair on her face but also to get a look at their surroundings and make an escape plan. Spying a prone body in the right plexiglass cubicle, he feels sick to his stomach instantly at the sight of what can only be Jack. His face is turned towards the wall, but the gray flecked high and tight haircut and general body size and shape, even in the generic scrubs scream that it’s Jack. Or an incredibly clever ruse from Murdoc; Mac wouldn’t put that past him at all. 

Riley watches Mac’s face crumble at what he sees and it draws her attention to the other cubicle as well. She’s horrified that all three of them are being held captive by a maniacal villain. 

“Jack!” her voice is frantic, muffled by the plexiglass enclosure. Tears of anger stream down her face. “Jack!” she continues to scream and bang on the piece of glass that separates the two cubicles. 

Blinded by the bright lights, Jack stirs and squeezes his eyes shut tighter before squinting to check out his surroundings. He hears Riley in distress, but it’s not loud, kind of far away, but he can’t pinpoint the direction. He’s got to get up and help her. Jack reaches for his hip. No gun. No belt even. Rising to his hands and knees, the throbbing in his head reminds him of what happened. First he was tazed but continued to put up a fight. Then someone clocked him over the head with something solid. That’s all he remembers for now. 

She’s relieved that Jack’s awake even if he is getting up very slowly. Once he’s finally upright, he sits on his heels and finds Riley. Her face is pleading, her eyes worried. He manages to stand, though it’s wobbly, and shuffles his bare feet across the room to Riley. Their hands are pressed together on opposite sides of the plexiglass. 

“I’m sorry, sweetheart, I’ll get you out of here.” Jack tells her, voice muffled by his enclosure. Her eyes glance toward Mac and Jack looks that way, heart breaking in two when he sees Mac bound to the chair. Apologizing with his face first, Mac also tells them he’s sorry. 

Mac’s eyes look up and to the side inquisitively, and the other two wonder what he’s hearing. They listen attentively as well and hear nothing but the uncomfortable stuffy echo of their plexiglass cages. 

“It’s time to start the party, Angus.” Mac hears and looks toward the door where Murdoc left. No one is by the door. He realizes that the voice is coming from an earpiece, nothing unusual in his line of work, he hadn’t even noticed it was there.

“I’ve got a diabolical game for you, MacGyver. You get to choose which of your friends dies.” Murdoc begins and Mac’s eyebrows crumple together in confusion. “Those air tight rodent pods your friends are in are equipped with over a dozen ways to die. Isn’t that exciting?! Not only do you get to choose which one dies, you get to choose how it happens.” His unnerving maniacal laugh lasts too long. Mac’s nostrils flare, attempting to hold back his panic. Mac can’t let them see him crack. 

“So which one is it? Will it be Miss Davis, steadfast sister, confidant, best female friend for life?” He pauses, “or will it be Jack? Overwatch, partner, best friend, father figure.”

Mac stays stoic. Silent. He will not give Murdoc the pleasure of seeing him falter.

Murdoc waits a few moments, “hmm, is this thing working? Are you hearing me? Maybe I forgot to turn the mic on because I’m not hearing anything out of you.” He knows his equipment is in good working order, but he loves teasing Mac. “Oh well then. I guess they both die.” 

A loud release booms, like an industrial air conditioner kicking on, and vents above the two enclosures flip open as two others close. A smoke billows into the cells, floating slowly toward the ground. Riley and Jack scamper to the furthest corners of their cages getting as close to the ground as possible. Riley pulls the neck of her shirt up covering her face, and Jack pulls his up from the bottom, hoping to filter at least some of the gas. Slithering across the ground in an army crawl, Jack goes back to the dividing plexiglass to be closer to Riley. 

Mac panics, trying to struggle free of his bindings, eyes wild and tear filled “No! Stop it! I’ll cooperate!” he yells, frantic.

“That’s more like it.” Murdoc coos. 

Another boom and the gas sucks back up into the vent before the other vents open back up. Mac visibly relaxes until he realizes his stalling tactic will only work for so long. His breathing quickens and he tries not to alert his friends to the predicament. 

“Take me!” Mac yells. “Hasn’t that always been your endgame? Play cat and mouse until you’re tired of the game or finally hungry enough to eat. Just take me. This isn’t about them. It’s about you and me.” Mac pants, near tears. “Now show your face you fucking coward. Kill me!”

Riley and Jack stare, straining to hear the muffled yelling coming from Mac. His final exclamation asking for his own death. Murdoc saunters into the room, clearly satisfied with his victory, creepy smile plastered on his face. Noticably shocked, Riley gasps at the revelation. Jack is just furious. 

Debating his options, Jack waffles between getting to Riley or getting at Murdoc. He wants to throttle that weasel more than anything else in the world right now. Jack’s cheeks turn red with fury. The dividing wall appears to be the weak point in their enclosure, so he tries to take it down.

Jack runs from the far end of his cage to the middle partition, slamming it as hard as he can with his shoulder. He does it again and again, fueled by pure rage and paternal instinct. Possible concussion forgotten, Jack doesn’t slow down. 

Very amused by the crude animal behavior, Murdoc cackles wildly at his captives.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks Mandi for your clever titles.


End file.
